A Holiday Dress in Merchant and Mills Indian Block Print Cotton
One of the best parts of sewing your own clothes is being able to identify and bring to life silhouettes that fit your body and personal style. The McCalls 7954, a mix-and-match pattern, allowed me to combine three of my favorites: a circle skirt (option 4) with and fitted bodice and bandeau halter neckline (option 1). Although it was a challenging make (oh, those pesky invisible zippers!), I couldn't be more pleased with the final product. It's a dress that's so very me... not an easy feat for someone with strong sartorial preferences.
Why I love this silhouette
Like most people, my body has changed over time (oh hey, motherhood and aging). But one thing that's remained consistent is that I have a large bust—fluctuating between a DD and F cup—and narrow rib cage, which makes it hard to find tops that fit snugly while also providing enough coverage. Bandeau-style tops work for me: they help minimize my bust and create a more proportional silhouette, especially when combined with a flared circle skirt.
Why I chose Merchant and Mills Indian Cotton
When I first started planning this dress, I was thinking silk or satin viscose... something shiny and glamorous and decadent. But I also had to be true to my personal style, and over the years I've realized I'm a "casual elegance" kind of gal. that means I like to dress down ultra-feminine silhouettes with simpler fabrics like cotton or linen (Ulla Johnson is a huge source of inspiration on that front!). So for this dress, I chose Merchant and Mills' Forest Haze Indian Block Print Cotton, an earthy, olive green floral print with coral, indigo, and cream accents. The pattern also called for underlining, so I used the Cloud9 Cirrus Solid in Sand for the bodice underlining and skirt lining, and self-lined the bodice with the primary fabric (that totals to three layers of fabric for the bodice, and two for the skirt). These combined to create a structured-yet-comfortable bodice and a lightweight, voluminous skirt that twirls like a dream.
Why I’ll absolutely make this dress again
I love this design, and I'm eager to try out the other bodice option that includes straps instead of a halter. I'll admit that the zipper installation threw me off, and the finishing isn't quite as tidy as I'd like. So the prospect of a second draft is exciting—I'm determined to perfect it this time around! Perhaps a Valentine's Day dress is in the cards, but until then I'm going to ring in the new year in this little number.
Awkward Skirt to Fitted Top: A Fall Refashion
Holy moly, it’s been a while! During which time I’ve:
Moved to San Diego with Jon and the kiddo
Started a new role as a Communications Manager at a tech company
Contemplated whether or not to keep blogging at all (see: aforementioned cross-state move and new, demanding role)
If you follow on Instagram, though, you’ll know that I’ve squeezed in a few sewing projects, including a recent refashion of a piece I’ve had sitting in my “don’t-get-rid-of-just-yet” pile. I bought this linen midi-length skirt at Madewell on impulse — I’d gained a few pounds, couldn’t fit into any of my work clothes, and was in a bit of a panic before starting my new job. Unfortunately I sized up a little too far, and the skirt was always too big and an awkward length (mid-calf, but not in a cute way).
I loved the texture, button loop closure, and color, so I finally decided to turn it into something wearable. Here’s a look into my process:
First, I unbuttoned the button closure, cut the skirt in half horizontally, and opened the whole thing up so I had a nice hunk of fabric to work with.
Then, I laid out the pattern pieces for a Mimi G Style pattern (Simplicity 8927), aligning the front closure with the skirt’s existing button closure. This took a bit of finessing, since the pattern was designed to self-line and included seam allowances and a tie-front feature.
Once I cut and assembled the bodice, it was about an inch too wide (partly because of the seam allowances and partly because patterns are almost always bigger than their sizing guide suggests). So I pinned it to fit and redid the side seams.
4. Even then, the bust was too big and billowed out at the armpits (not totally sure what happened here, but I suspect the linen stretched a bit). So I added in some pleats along the top of the bust line before finishing with bias tape that I made from leftover pieces of the fabric. I was running low on scraps at that point, so I made it a halter instead of attaching the straps to the back as the pattern was originally designed.
5. Because I used the existing skirt hem, there was no way to properly finish the side seams. So I added tiny patches to both sides, which I actually think adds charm and gives the top a well-loved feel.
This is probably my favorite refashion to date, and one that I’ve already worn out in the real world a few times (the true test!).
A British-Made Duffle in a Goldrush Town
I bought this Gloverall duffle coat almost two years ago, just before I got pregnant with Avery. I'd actually planned to send it back – partly because I didn't think it fit me right and partly because I felt guilty about spending so much on it. Instead I let it sit in the back of our car, return label affixed, for the duration of an entire pregnancy + baby year before finally resurrecting it this winter.
And as it turns out, I absolutely love this jacket. Whatever fit issues I thought it had back in 2016 I no longer notice, and it's a little late to worry about the price tag – that money's long spent.
I love the slim cut, the buffalo horn toggles, the rich navy hue, and the cozy deep pockets. But most of all, I love the weight. It's not your typical stiff pea coat wool, but rather a breathable, medium weight 80/20 wool-poly blend that feels a lot like performance fleece. I know that polyamide fabrics aren't the most sustainable, but in this case I'm willing to compromise for the sake of wearability (in temperate California, a truly heavy wool coat will make your swelter).
The Gloverall brand also has a cool history. It was founded in 1951 when Harold & Freda Morris were approached the by Britain's Ministry of defense to help make good use of their surplus World War II Naval ‘Monty’ duffle coats. Once the public got a taste of these stylish and functional coats they went nuts, and Gloverall's stock ran out by 1954. At that point, the company designed their own version of the military-style duffle using a lighter fabric and special cuts for women and children. Over sixty years later, their coats are all still made in the U.K.
All the boxes are checked in my book: classic style, ethical cred, top-notch quality, and comfort.
So even though my hometown of Temecula is quite mild at the moment, I'll just play British dress-up while enjoying the cool desert air. And leaning listlessly against refurbished 19th-century saloons, naturally.
These Autumn Evergreens
Although our neighborhood is filled with orange and gold these days, you'll also find pockets of eternal summer. Northern California is filled with conifers, live oak trees, and ivy varieties, all of whom provide just enough green to offset their dreary deciduous cousins.
I like the idea of having evergreen pieces in my wardrobe, too. This Woolrich jacket is one of them: light enough for summer evenings but warm enough to provide a cozy top layer in fall and winter. Same with my Viktoria + Woods denim skirt, which can be winterized with boots and tights. All of the pieces pictured here have become wardrobe staples and, with the exception of the Amour Vert top, have been in my closet for over three years. It's all part of the clothing philosophy I'm trying to live by: investing in well-made, relatively timeless pieces that will stay with me for many seasons to come.
Outfit details: Woolrich jacket (fabric made in U.S.A., similar here) | Viktoria + Woods high-waisted denim skirt (similar here; made in Australia) | Corso Como boots (I've had these for over five years and love 'em; similar here) | Amour Vert ribbed tank top (made in U.S.A., similar here).
Eva Franco Does Gingham Right
Ubiquitous as the fiddle-leaf fig, the black gingham skirt is the stuff Pinterest dreams are made of. I've seen minis and maxis, tie-waists and ruffles, paired with a crisp button-up or faded rocker tee. But I wasn't about to hop on the bandwagon until I found an ethical alternative.
Head's up: this post is not sponsored, but it does contain affiliate links.
Ubiquitous as the fiddle-leaf fig, the black gingham skirt is the stuff Pinterest dreams are made of. I've seen minis and maxis, tie-waists and ruffles, paired with a crisp button-up or faded rocker tee. But I wasn't about to hop on the bandwagon until I found an ethical alternative.
This lace-up midi version comes from Eva Franco, whose gorgeous designs are all made in Los Angeles. Eva Franco is actually one of the first USA-made brands I ever discovered — way back in 2011 when such things were much harder to come by. Franco is a Hungarian-Romanian immigrant, which could be why her designs speak to me and my mouthful of a maiden name (Palhegyi, which means "man of the mountain," is Hungarian). It could also just be that I'm a sucker for a high, lace-up waist.
I've paired it here with a thrifted Joie silk blouse, my trusty black wedges, a woven Indego Africa bag, and a Hands Producing Hope bracelet.
Shop the look here (ethically, of course):
Photos by Cue The Light
Road Trippin' in Leota
And by road trip, I mean we followed the 84 West until we hit the end. Turns out there's a beach there, and lots of green in between. I do love those California highways.
The dress comes courtesy of Leota, a line of women's dresses made in NYC with a commitment to fair working conditions and long-lasting partnerships with its seamstresses. You can learn more about Leota's transparency model, and even get a glimpse into their Brooklyn factories, here.
I mentioned Leota before in a roundup of ethical maternity clothes, but their regular line is killer too. This black wrap mini dress has served me well postpartum. It's forgiving and nursing-friendly while maintaining a flattering silhouette, and I've been wearing the heck out of it lately. Even when it makes no sense to do so (like on a weekend road trip).
*I received this dress as a gift from Leota. I was not paid to write this post and all opinions are of course my own.
Outfit Details: Perfect Wrap Mini Dress in Black Crepe, c/o Leota (made in USA) / Leather sandals by Fidji (made in Portugal)/ Birdie Watch by Shinola (made in Detroit, USA) / Sunglasses by TOMS
Maternity Style | The Waiting Game
Maternity leave pre-baby is kind of like vacation. Except I'm still pregnant. And I can't drink. And I get to sit around and wonder when, exactly, I'll be launched into several hours of intense pain. So really not like vacation at all.
I've been working on the nursery and putting together ethical gift guides to pass the time (due date is tomorrow), and figured I should capture a few more maternity style pictures before I officially deflate. I especially wanted to get some shots of this coat, because it's been a godsend since the temperature dropped a few weeks ago. By this point, none of my regular coats fit, so I bought this dusty rose cashmere coat by Theory (I found it on sale at Bloomie's... phew!). I'm so glad that relaxed, oversized silhouettes are in this season, as it made finding maternity-appropriate winter wear much easier. And the color is a bit of a head-turner; I get compliments on it every time I wear it out. It makes me feel like a fancy East Coast lady-about-town.
All I need is a Shih Tzu with a diamond-studded collar.
...But is it Ethical?
Much like BCBG, Theory isn't a brand that I would promote as particularly ethical (you can read Project Just's review of their parent company here). But their clothing is incredibly well-made with an emphasis on classic/timeless silhouettes, so they'll do when I can't find an ethical or secondhand version of what I'm looking for. The dress, by Susana Monaco, is made in the USA (similar here).
We'll see how much more blogging I get through before our new friend arrives, but au revoir for now darlings!
Outfit Details: Theory 'Clairene New Divide' Wool & Cashmere Coat / Susana Monaco dress (made in USA; similar here) / Woven leather platform sandals (thrifted) / TOMS Luisa sunglasses (one-for-one)
Palihouse Santa Monica and a Reformation Dress
A quick stay at Palihouse
Whenever we travel, I make it my personal mission to stay at the quirkiest, most Wes Andersonian hotel I can find. In Paris, it was the Grande Pigalle in all of its nostalgic glory – spiral staircases, brass room keys, and pineapple door knockers included. In London, it was the Ace Hotel (a little less intimate, but quirky nonetheless). And when planning a recent babymoon/ bday getaway to Santa Monica, I stumbled upon Palihouse.
Formerly the Embassy Hotel Apartments, Palihouse has been housing design-minded travelers like myself since 1927. I imagine it’s been gutted a few times over the years, but the original Moorish/ Mediterranean influences and intricate ornamentation remain intact. The interior decor has a mountain lodge-meets-Old-Hollywood feel, with kitschy details like pink velvet ottomans, dip-dyed wood furniture, and antlers over the bed. The ambiance of a place is just as important to me as what we do/see/eat, and Palihouse has atmosphere in spades. We didn't have to do much – it was vacation enough to just sit back, look around, and soak it all in.
It's Maternity if I say it is
I’ve been meaning to post about this Reformation dress for a while, so we took advantage of the gorgeous courtyard and overcast skies to shoot a few pictures. I bought the Mattie dress dress back in June, hoping that the wrap style would accommodate the bump throughout my pregnancy. For the most part, it has. It’s grown significantly shorter as the months go by, but I still think it looks pretty good, considering it wasn't actually designed for a pregnant body. I've worn it to every fancy occasion this summer and fall, including my own baby shower. And true to form, it's made in the USA from 100% viscose, a synthetic fabric made from biodegradable plant fibers. I love Reformation with a passion unmatched (well, at least when it comes to dresses), and I'd be stoked if they ever decided to create a maternity line.
Back to Reality
It was a lovely weekend of ocean air, family, fancy vegan food, and a visit to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Now I'm back at work for another two weeks until, well... shit gets real. I can't wait to welcome this little bug into the world (and drink wine again, in that order).
Outfit Details: Reformation Mattie Dress in Hibiscus / Madewell denim jacket (old; similar US-made version here)/ Woven leather platform sandals (thrifted) / Kayu Andrea Clutch (responsibly handcrafted by women in the Philippines, Indonesia and Malaysia)
Just Call Me Big Red
It’s week 34, and I’m feeling positively large and in charge. While I was able to get away with wearing some non-maternity pieces for a while, I’m relegated to knits and spandex these days. Thank goodness for this Ingrid & Isobel tank dress, which I’ve basically been living in for the last month. It’s soft and cozy, while making me feel comfortably compressed (is that why babies like being swaddled?). And, lest we forget the purpose of this blog, it’s also made in the USA.
The scarf is by Marine Layer, a San Francisco-based brand that I absolutely adore. The company manufactures most of their clothing in the United States, while sourcing more technical styles like raincoats and accessories overseas. Like Everlane, they closely monitor the factories they work with to ensure fair and ethical working conditions.
I love their laid-back aesthetic, and I can’t wait to get my hands on their Jackie Denim Skirt once I have a waist again (I mean it has my name written all over it, riiiiiight?).
And then there’s the coat. This, along with the camel-colored version I have in the same style, was a compromise in terms of ethics. BCBG certainly isn’t a pioneer in the ethical fashion space (although they do have a vague corporate responsibility statement like everyone else), but I’ve always found their clothing to be exceptionally well made. Every BCBG piece I own has held up for years (including the dress that I’m wearing in almost every Facebook picture from 2015). So I know that when I make a purchase from them I can adhere to the “30 wears” principle. Ideally, a garment will be ethically produced and well-made, but as I’ve mentioned before that’s not always the case. Ultimately, I want to ensure that the things I buy will stay in my closet for years to come.
Borrowed and Blue - Le Tote Harem Pants
It took me a while to get behind the harem pants thing. While I thought they looked fabulous on other people, I was personally opposed to wearing what felt like pajamas in public. That might be because I went to college at a time when all the sorority girls did wear their pajamas to class (not that I had anything against sorority girls. Not exactly). But these Octavia Maternity harem pants, borrowed from Le Tote, just feel right. It might be that I'm embracing my bohemian side this pregnancy (still trying to channel those earth mother vibes), or it might be that the intricate print and gold tassels simply make these feel like the fanciest pajamas ever. Either way, I would wear these to a Chaucer lecture... with wedges and plenty of layered jewelry, of course.
Outfit Details: Octavia Maternity Geometric Harem Pant, rented c/o Le Tote / Ettika Blessed Be Necklace (made in Los Angeles) / Isabella Oliver black maternity tank (made in Portugal) / Madewell denim jacket (old) / Woven leather platform sandals (thrifted)
Refashioners 2016: DIY Maternity Jeans
The Refashioners challenge is in full swing over at The Makery, and I thought I'd use the opportunity to make myself a pair of maternity jeans that actually fit.
I bought a pair of Paige maternity jeans a few months ago thinking they would last my entire pregnancy. Ha. Ah ha ha ha. Oh Jacqui, so naive. The stiff elastic strips sewn in place of pockets are a total joke. And the waistband now digs into my belly, creating quite the muffin top. It's uncomfortable, and unflattering, and I'm a little mad at myself for getting talked into fancy maternity jeans in the first place. No big deal though – at least it inspired me to create something on my own!
I started with an old pair of Adriano Goldschmied jeans that I rarely wear. I knew I needed the waistband to fit under my belly, so I removed it and trimmed the top of the jeans by about an inch and a half:
After adding in side panels (see below), I reattached the waistband and added an extra strip that I took from another pair of worn-out jeans. I added elastic to this piece so that the waist can grow with me into the third trimester. Initially I considered attaching a jersey panel like you see on most below-the-belly maternity styles. But because most of my maternity shirts are nice and long, adding extra fabric to the jeans just felt redundant.
Now on to the legs. It's cute to think that the only part of you that gets bigger with pregnancy is your belly. But for many women, including yours truly, pretty much everything expands. There was no way these size 29 jeans were going to fit over my healthy butt and thighs, so I opened up the side seams and added in an extra panel cut from another pair of old jeans. I really like the slight contrast between the two washes, and resulting cut is less skinny, more boyfriend.
Finally, I added in a couple of decorative patches using Shashiko stitching. Shashiko is a Japanese style of functional embroidery traditionally used to reinforce points of wear or to mend holes, and it's all over the place right now. While I didn't actually need to apply these patches, I thought the jeans could use a little flair, and I wanted to try my hand at a new technique.
And that's it! They fit great, they're pretty darn cute, and they didn't cost me a penny.
In Defense of Hoarding: Finding Joy in a Closet Full of Clutter
I have to admit I've abandoned any hope of having a minimal wardrobe. It’s not that I don’t get the appeal – a closet full of 20-30 streamlined, complementary pieces would certainly make getting dressed in the morning much easier. And maybe if I was 22 and just starting to build a grown-up wardrobe I might go the way of the capsule. But 10+ years of thrift store shopping, sewing experiments, clothing swaps and impulse buys (but it’s fair trade!) mean that I’ve far surpassed the 30-piece mark.
As I’ve mentioned before, I have several plastic bins full of clothing I’ve kept over the years. It’s Mari Kondo’s nightmare, really: 48 cubic feet of pure clutter. Things I should have discarded long ago because they didn’t get worn, didn’t quite fit, or at the time didn’t spark joy. But now that I’m pregnant and reworking my wardrobe on a daily basis, I am so glad I kept them around.
Last weekend I went though my closet and lovingly stowed away all the things my belly has outgrown. I hung up the few new maternity pieces I bought, along with several old pieces that I excavated from those four bins. This dress, for example, is one that my grandma bought me about five years ago. I loved the print and it’s 90’s vibe, but it was always a little too big for me. Now it fits like a dream, looks practically brand-new, and most importantly doesn’t scream “maternity.”
I’m trying my best not to shop with the same abandon that I did in my twenties, when I spent what little disposable income I had on secondhand pieces because they were cute and fun and cheap. But I think it’s silly to get rid of the things I’ve already purchased just for the sake of having less stuff. And if you have a little storage space to spare, I urge you to think twice before purging all of the clothing you're not completely smitten with. After all, you never know when that dress you forgot you had will suddenly fit you again. Joy? Consider yourself sparked.
Outfit Details: Dress, gift from my granny; not sure where it's from / Velvet jacket, thrifted from Wallflower Vintage / Leather sandals by Fidji (made in Portugal)/ Birdie Watch by Shinola (made in Detroit, USA) / Woven clutch, part of my first delivery from Le Tote
On a Fast Train to Baby Town
A month and half ago, Jon and I said goodbye to our 700 square-foot apartment in San Francisco and moved ourselves to the 'burbs. Since then, we’ve been living a quiet life — making dinner, going on hikes, strolling through West Elm and contemplating the best wall on which to mount a flat-screen TV. Oh yeah, and I haven’t had a drink in 16 weeks.
That’s right: all signs point to pregnant. We’re excited! We’re terrified! We’re looking forward to dressing him or her up in fancy baby clothes! But more than anything, we’re grateful that things are going smoothly this time around.
I alluded to this in a previous post, but I miscarried at about six weeks back in November. I wasn’t ready to talk about it then, even though I knew it was very common and in no way my fault. The logical part of me figured I’d be “over it” in a few weeks, ready to try again. But it took a bit longer than that. In spite of supportive friends and family and a lovely trip to Paris, it was a rough winter for both of us. I drank too much wine, I sank into depression, I cried a lot. And while I probably took it harder than Jon did, I know he suffered too. It can’t be easy to see your partner in pain while you stand by powerless to fix it, but he handled it like a champ. I think we both entered this pregnancy with a deeper appreciation of each other and of life’s fragility.
And that’s the last time I’ll use “we” for the remainder of this post. Because when it comes down to it, I’m the one who’s pregnant, and the one going through the most outrageous physical and emotional changes I’ve experienced since adolescence. Somehow I had imagined that pregnancy would be this magical time of self-care and self-reflection; a chance to retreat from the stress of my career and my usual existential angst. A time to focus on the amazing things my body is doing, to appreciate the legacy of child-bearing women who came before me, to embrace my inner earth mother goddess!
But for the first 13 weeks I felt less like Gaia and more like Gollum — a reclusive, sickly creature obsessed with and resentful of my "precious."
Indeed, nothing gets you stoked on the miracle of life quite like three months of nausea and vomiting. My daily routine — which used to include an energizing workday, Crossfit workout, walk through the Mission District and a nice dinner + cocktail — quickly devolved. In those early months I could barely make it through the day without crying in the bathroom or moaning audibly at my desk. Most meetings were spent planning my escape route in the event that I had to puke. I drove home in a haze and immediately crawled into bed, sipping on ginger ale and trying to keep down soup and saltine crackers. I felt like a specter of my former self — everything I once loved was steeped in sickness. Food tasted rotten, colors were muted, normal household products smelled like poison, even my favorite songs were off-key. I missed my life, I missed myself. I began to question why any woman voluntarily puts herself through this.
But then, as it is wont to do, the sun came out.
When I was in college, I had a dream that stuck with me for years. I was trapped in a hostage situation in my childhood home, trying to help my family escape. We found our way out through a latched door on the ceiling, and I ran as fast as I could to a nearby field shouting “I HAVE THE ENERGY OF FLOWERS!!!”
That’s kind of how I felt when I woke up one morning around week 14 and didn’t want to vomit. I didn’t feel great, per se, but I felt a little closer, a little less troll-like. And I went to the gym! Oh glory hallelujah, how good it felt to sweat! To have, apparently, the energy of flowers! About halfway through my workout, when the runner’s high kicked in with a nice jolt of endorphins, I actually started to cry (a common motif throughout this pregnancy). I felt like I'd been released from prison.
So anyway here I am, bumping out loud and proud, waiting for the last traces of sickness to fade so I can let those earth mother vibes wash over me.
I’m waiting.
...Earth mother?
...Anyone?
Fine, I’ll just work on my maternity style Pinterest board instead.
Outfit Details:
Isabella Oliver Scoop Neck Maternity Tee (made in Portugal) / Black leggings (old; similar here) / Veja Esplar Sneakers (fair trade and sustainable)
DIY Off the Shoulder Blouse
Turns out, all it took to get back in the sewing groove was finding a really easy project. I've been drooling over all of the off the shoulder silhouettes I've seen this season (including the one Sophie paired with her Birkin flairs). And since I couldn't find a similar pattern online, I went the DIY route. I used A Pair and a Spare's tutorial, subbing out basic tube sleeves for a slight flutter shape (Colette's Aster pattern provided a great template), and finally found a use for this embroidered Nanette Lepore cotton I've had sitting in my stash for four years. I intentionally cut it short so I could wear it with this high waisted skirt by Viktoria and Woods, a conscientious Australian brand I recently fell in love with (and bonus: they're accredited by Ethical Clothing Australia).
This top was a ridiculously quick project — it only took me about an hour total — and it inspired me to make more lightweight, breezy pieces for summer. So here's to sunshine, inspiration, and a little extra skin (also pass the SPF please).
Made | Pauline Alice Rosari Skirt in Corduroy
Dudes, I am in love with this pattern. Ever since Reformation put out their Tucson skirt, I've been trying to get my hands on a high waisted, 70's-inspired a-line. Pauline Alice's Rosari skirt fit the bill perfectly, and I plan to make as many versions of this beauty as I can. I used a navy blue corduroy from Britex and some brass snap buttons, a color combination that also happens to match my new Fortress of Inca Rita Jane booties (not pictured here because... rain).
The pattern is fairly easy to follow and suitable for beginners, especially if you exclude the pockets like I did. I do plan to create a pocketed version, but I wanted to keep the lines on this one super simple. The only problem I encountered was the waistband. For some reason, the band I cut out ended up being about two inches too short. I tried to backtrack, but I couldn't figure out what happened. I cut the right size, the fabric wasn't too stretchy – I really have no idea. Since I was already low on fabric, I just ended up attaching another two-inch panel to the waist band above the back seam. This worked fine (it's actually kind of a cool effect), but I will definitely triple-check that the pieces line up when I make this again.
Next up, a denim version. Then a green one, then a a pink one... it'll just be Jacqui and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Skirts up in here.
Tomboyish
I went through this awesome period of time in sixth grade when all I wore were my dad's old sweatshirts, black leggings, and low-top sneakers (this was shortly after I outgrew my let's-hot-glue-sunflowers-on-everything phase). I remember reacting to the extreme girliness I saw in my peers; all of those floral prints, lace chokers, and weirdly provocative bodysuits of the mid-nineties suddenly made me want to rebel.
That... and the fact that I had boobs. If you didn't have boobs in the sixth grade, you probably wanted them. If you did have boobs, however, you were probably a target for ridicule by the girls (and boys) who didn't. Like much of middle school, this is a no-win situation.
I recall being called a slut by a group of seventh graders for wearing a vaguely tight top and above-the-knee skirt. I was also asked by my sixth grade camp leader to change out of a completely appropriate tank top because she found it "too risque." Eventually, I gave up. Sports bras and men's XL sweatshirts it was.
It wasn't too long until I let skirts and maryjane's and pink back into my life (I mean, Clueless had just come out, duh!). But that brief stint in tomboyland felt good. I walked to class with a new sense of anonymity. I moved around without worrying that some part of me would jiggle or pop out or – God forbid – make someone else uncomfortable. I clocked in my fastest mile during that time, beating all the boys in my P.E. class. Because, for the first time, I could just run.
Anyway this jacket, borrowed from my husband, reminded me of that phase. As much as I love a cinched waist and an a-line, there are days when I just want to disappear inside a pile of distressed cotton. And I hope that someday my kids will know that they can dress however girlish or boyish or tomboyish they want, and that they can change their minds as often as they damn well please.
Outfit details: Levi's military jacket / Borrowed | Alternative Apparel modal dress / Old; similar here | The Billie Boot / Madewell | Polka-dot socks / Old; similar fair trade version at PACT
I'm Not (Always) Perky
These days I'd say I'm a pretty happy, well-adjusted person. But there were days in my late teens and early twenties that were not so sunny – days steeped in self-doubt, too much vodka, and Belle and Sebastian on repeat. Days I wandered the Berkeley campus in a haze, trying to suppress my soul-crushing sadness so that I could just get to class. Just make it to work. Just get my diploma and get out.
I guess I'm comfortable talking about this on the blog because it's over, and because that time sits in such a humorous juxtaposition to my current happy, stable life. I mean, I work in corporate communications. I do Crossfit and barre method. I’m practically a cheerleader!
But I still have my days. My gloomy Autumn days, when the idea of smiling is actually painful and I reserve an extra scowl for the cat callers on Mission Street. For those days, I have my Wednesday Adams dress.
Found at La Loupe Vintage in San Diego.
Santa Ana Sunset
These pictures turned out to be a little more, um, theatrical than I intended. That's what happens when you raid your mom's accessory collection and convince your camera-savvy dad to go on a "photoadventure" at the local ecological reserve. So thank you, parents, and thank you Santa Rosa Plateau, for making this Harlequin Western Romance look possible.
Appropriately, the Payton Two Piece is part of Reformation's I'm Up Here Collection, designed for those of us who won't survive the zombie apocalypse without a damn good sports bra. I love the fit of the halter top (yeah darts!) and am looking forward to pairing both the top and skirt with other pieces in my wardrobe.
A word on the accessories: most of these pieces were purchased at the Los Angeles County Fair from various artisans (I believe the hat is from Peru); the silver cuffs are from a New Mexico-based jeweler. My mom has good taste.
Sweet Georgia! A By Hand London Dress
Jingoist I am not; I just spent Independence Day weekend sewing a dress by a British pattern company. At least it’s red, white, and blue?
Oh wait. But I love you, By Hand London, and I think we’re pretty cool with England these days.
When I originally mocked up my summer capsule wardrobe, I planned to make this Georgia dress from black and white gingham. But it was hardto track down gingham fabric sturdy and stretchy enough for Georgia, so I went went with a Italian cotton I found at Britex instead (more sublime floral from Britex? Color me shocked).
This was my first go at a By Hand London pattern and I am in loooove. Although I was bummed to hear that they’re no longer selling print patterns, I'll be trying out another one of their PDFs soon (or snatching up some of that remaining paper). The directions were clear, the fit perfect (no alterations needed), and the final product one of the loveliest things I’ve sewn to date.
I have a habit of not actually wearing the things I sew for fear that they look "homemade" or that I might find myself stapling together a busted seam, but I'm happy to say I wore this out to brunch on Sunday without comment or incident. No one asked me condescendingly if I "made that." No one questioned that it was a legitimate piece of clothing - something one might even buy in a store!
It may be U.K.-inspired, but this here dress was proudly made in the USA.
Summer Capsule Wardrobe, Make One: A Vintage-Style Halter Top
Hot damn! It's my belly button. Call the police and the fireman oh wait no, just get me a bottle of self-tanner. Clearly I haven't seen much sun lately, but that's not stopping me from showin' off my first make of 2015. It's a floral halter top using Simplicity 1365, a revival of a 1970's pattern that fits in perfectly with my Summer capsule wardrobe plans. I found the fabric at Britex a few months back, along with matching vintage-style buttons (have you ever seen Britex's button wall? It's majestic).
I'm pretty happy with the fit, although the button closure in the back pulls a bit (this is because I was out of interfacing and too impatient to buy more... my bad). But my favorite thing about this pattern is the clean finish. It's fully lined and requires the you "stitch in the ditch" to secure the straps from the inside. This means that I have a beautiful, fully-finished garment without the use of a serger. So much better than using pinking shears or dealing with French seams! I'm already planning a version using some of the black Nanette Lepore eyelet I have stashed away.
In other news, I've been working on adding variety to my poses, as evidenced in the diptych below. Probably still needs some work.
